Untitled
by Reboo
Summary: Final versions of a P.O.V. from Zechs version up
1. Default Chapter

Untitled  
By: Reboo  
  
A/N:This has been edited by my teacher, and a couple of extra suggestions she made, I've done, or tried to do, I'm trying to use Hemingway's Iceberg theory, which I had never heard of before today, but have consequently fallen in love with. I'm curious as too which one looks, or rather sounds better, you have to read carefully though to catch the differences, although to me they appear blatant, but that's because this is my writing. I want to see which one people like better, and the better liked version will stay up. The other two, three if my teacher edits as well, will be removed for the better liked one, unless people would like all versions to stay up.   
  
Calculating, cool, calm, cold, dangerous, unfeeling, deadly, possessing no mercy, precise, uncaring, goal oriented, sharp, intense, penetrating, these words and phrases are often used to describe me, and I must agree with them. These words however do not describe every aspect of me. I care for my sister and my best friend deeply, and frankly I don't know what I'd do without them.   
  
Most days I can't forget what I've done, almost done, and been through. Experiences haunt me the most; I guess that's why I prefer mobile suit combat to hand to hand combat. You can't see the faces of your enemies as you kill them, can't feel them go limp, can't hear the last utterances of another lost soul, or smell blood of your opponent seeping through your fingers.   
  
In the battles I've fought, I could always feel the adrenaline rush, and almost never acted upon it. I must believe that's what saved my life so many times. Whenever I stare at my hands, I can see the blood on them, and wish it would go away. I've killed so many, through combat, or orders. They died so I could live. Some how I don't think that should have happened, and think that if only I had died, how many more would be living.   
  
My best friend refuses to see my point on these things, argues it's not good for my soul to dwell on such things. I don't even know if my soul is still intact. I've seen my brutal deaths right before my own eyes, and acted in ways only imaginable in people's nightmares. How could my soul still remain intact after that? I would say my soul is gone, those close to me simply say it's wandering, and needs to be found.   
  
Do I deserve to live though? That's my big question, but by judging myself am I judging all others. I'm honestly not sure. By saying I'm a criminal, deserving of death, does that not condemn fellow soldiers, pilots, high ranking officials to death as well. I can never clear my head of these thoughts, what ifs. They weigh me down. Nightmares haunt my dreams, and I silently pray that they will leave me so I can sleep, but somehow I believe they are trying to teach me a lesson.   
  
Some day, maybe some day I can move on. I have all the support I could ever need. Until then I must fight my own mind which wages it's own war against me.   
  



	2. edit by ellie

A/N: Okay, this is my version that has been beta tested, by my only beta, I sound pathetic, huh? Well I'm curious as too which one looks, or rather sounds better, you have to read carefully though to catch the differences, although to me they appear blatant, but that's because this is my writing. I want to see which one people like better, and the better liked version will stay up. The other two, three if my teacher edits as well, will be removed for the better liked one, unless people would like all versions to stay up.   
  
Calculating, cool, calm, cold, dangerous, unfeeling, deadly, possessing no mercy, precise, uncaring, goal oriented, sharp, intense, penetrating; these words and phrases are often used to describe me, and I must agree with them. Those words, however, do not describe every aspect of me. I care for my sister, and my best friend deeply: and, frankly I don't know what I'd do without them.   
  
Most days I can't forget what I've done, almost done, and been through. Experiences haunt me the most, I guess that's why I prefer mobile suit combat to hand to hand combat. You can't see the faces of your enemies as you kill them, can't feel them go limp, can't hear the last utterances of another lost soul, or have the actual blood of your opponent seeping through your fingers.   
  
In the battles I've fought, I could always feel the adrenaline rush, but I almost never acted upon it. I must believe that might be what saved my life so many times. Whenever I stare at my hands, I can see the blood on them, and wish it would go away.   
  
I've killed so many, through combat orders.   
  
They died so I could live. Somehow I don't think that should have happened, and I think that if only I had died, how many more would be living?   
  
My best friend refuses to see my point on these things, and argues it's not good for my soul to dwell on such things. I don't even know if my soul is still intact. I've seen my parents' brutal deaths as a small child; I've enacted revenge; ordered the destruction of billions of people. How could my soul still remain intact after that?   
  
I would say my soul is gone.   
  
Those close to me simply say it is wandering, and needs to be found.   
  
Do I deserve to live? That's my big question, but by judging myself am I judging all others? I don't honestly know. By saying I'm a criminal, deserving of death, does that not condemn Treize, Une, Noin, the gundam pilots, all high ranking officials to death as well? I can never clear my head of these thoughts; these what ifs. They weigh me down. Nightmares haunt my dreams, and I pray that they will leave me so my sleep can be as peaceful as others, but somehow deep down I believe they are trying to teach me a lesson.   
  
Some day, maybe some day, I can move on. I have all the outside support I could ever need. Until then I must fight my own battles on the inside.   
  



End file.
